


Get the feeling I've stayed too long

by okaystop



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Jealousy, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 15:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop
Summary: Lovett interrupted him again. "I'm just saying, you went away on vacation -  at the last minute! -  with this girl you've only known for about five seconds. You could have had a good night's sleep just fine in your home, in your own bed. Why do you always have to - ?"





	Get the feeling I've stayed too long

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself a decade ago that I'd never write RPF again after years of drowning myself in American Idol & Clay Aiken RPF. And yet here I am. I fell down the Crooked Media RPF rabbit hole after discovering it during Yuletide 2018 and I've staved off this story (and others, let's be real) for long enough. Everyone in this fandom here on AO3 is supremely talented and I've loved everything I've read and I hope that you'll all enjoy my offering to the archive. 
> 
> Title is from lyrics in Brett Dennen's "Already Gone."
> 
>  
> 
> Also, standard disclaimer. Keep it secret, keep it safe. Thank you.

As always, Jon started the ad read off, rubbing the back of his neck before sitting up and leaning in towards the mic. "Pod Save America is brought to you by Parachute. There's nothing like coming home from a vacation without Parachute sheets and sleeping for the first time on fresh, clean ones."

"Jon was in Palm Springs," Lovett interjected. "He told us he was leaving on Wednesday afternoon and we had to scramble to cover the Thursday pod -"

Jon cleared his throat, looked levelly at Lovett across the table, then spoke over him, louder, so as not to let this ad go too off the rails. "Parachute sheets are made with one hundred percent Egyptian cotton and provide the best night's sleep you'll ever -"

Lovett interrupted him again. "I'm just saying, you went away on vacation - at the last minute! - with this girl you've only known for about five seconds. You could have had a good night's sleep just fine in your home, in your own bed. Why do you always have to - ?" Lovett was sputtering, truly sputtering. For someone who took pride in and proclaimed to anyone who asked (or didn't ask) that he was the best speechwriter Obama ever had, this was unnerving. 

So unnerving, in fact, that Jon stared at Lovett with wide eyes and his mouth open, fish-like, before he signaled to Elisa, who was in studio for this session, to stop recording. He took off his noise-cancelling headphones and turned more fully towards Lovett. "Lovett, what's going on?"

He shook his head, his cheeks puffed up like he was going to go on another rant, then closed his mouth. "Nothing. Never mind. Forget it. Can we get back to the ad?" 

Jon almost said something else but thought better of it, bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. "All right, let's go. We'll just - start over." He put his headphones back on and looked at Lovett for a moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, but Lovett just flapped a hand in the air to get Elisa to start the recording again. Jon cleared his throat. "Pod Save America is brought to you by Parachute." 

This time Lovett didn't say anything at all, not even offering his usual joking commentary. Not even when Jon got to the end of the ad. "Parachute is a better way to -" Jon paused, waiting for Lovett to at least toss something out there, but he was looking at his phone, his finger scrolling against the screen. Jon sighed. "Sleep," he said, that one word packed with such a disappointed tone that he practically heard Elisa sig and roll her eyes. 

Before he could remove his headphones again, Lovett was out of his seat and out of the studio. Jon set a fist on the table in frustration and looked over at Elisa. "Are we done?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. We have enough for the next pod."

He nodded and shoved away from the table, gathering up his iPad, pushing his phone into his back pocket, and leaving his glass of water there. One of their interns could clean it up, he thought, even if that wasn't a precedent he wanted to set. Jon just needed to go find Lovett and fix - whatever this whole thing was. 

As he turned to go into their office, where he expected to find Lovett, he practically ran into Tommy, who was standing there with two Dunkin cups. "Sorry," Jon said, sidestepping around him. "Where'd Lovett go?"

Tommy held out one of the cups. "Uh - wasn't he recording ads with you?"

"He was," Jon said. "But he - we had a - he left. Are you feeling better?" A change in subject, he thought, that was what he needed. Even if he knew Tommy could see right through it. He didn't look at him, just took the cup with a forced (but still grateful) smile. "You look better, I mean. I didn't think you were coming in today."

"Just brought the coffee and came by to grab my laptop. Jon, what happened?" Tommy's hand on Jon's arm was comforting, warm, but Jon stepped away from him. 

"Nothing. Just the usual. He took the Parachute ad up to an eleven and I called him on it." Despite the fact that he knew Tommy could (and very possibly would) go ask Elisa about what happened - or ask to hear the audio - he was still too confused as to what had happened to try and explain it. "Thanks for the coffee. You should get back home before Hanna calls me and yells at me for you working too much."

Tommy's chuckled turned into a cough. "Yeah, I know." Hanna was out of town for work though, and Jon knew that was the only reason Tommy chanced a trip into the office while recovering from a head cold. "Dinner's still on tomorrow at our place. See you then?"

Jon nodded, distracted, as he walked into the office that the three of them shared. It was empty. Lovett's bag was still tucked between the leg of his desk and the window, but both dogs were gone, and their leashes, and Jon breathed out in relief. Lovett had just taken the dogs for a walk, that's all. Probably to clear his head or get over whatever it was that came up during the ad read. 

That was fine, Jon told himself. It was fine.

 

Jon was sitting on the couch in their office, alone, deep down into the dregs of twitter, shooting off bad takes and replies that if he weren't trying to forget about earlier he wouldn't be doing, when Lovett and the dogs returned. 

He looked up when Leo barked from the doorway and was in his lap a moment later, paws on Jon's chest, tongue lapping up against his cheek, tail wagging. "Hey Leo, hey - Pundit," he said, reaching down to scratch her behind her ear. He glanced over at Lovett, who stood in the doorway holding the leashes. "Lovett -"

What was that, back there, before -? What's going on? Why are you upset about -? All the questions he wanted to ask and then all he managed to say was, "Thanks for taking Leo out."

"Sure," Lovett said. He slouched down onto his desk chair, folding his legs up under himself like he always did. Couldn't ever just sit on a chair like a normal human being. He was so very obviously avoiding looking at Jon as he tugged his phone from his pocket, checked it, then set it face-down on the desk. 

"Are you busy tonight?" Jon found himself asking, his words sharp and loud in the relative silence of their shared office. "Do you maybe want to get a drink, or see a movie?"

It took a moment for Lovett to answer. "Sorry, were you talking to me?"

Jon fought back the urge to groan. "You're the only other person in the room."

Lovett finally - finally! - looked at him, though his expression was measured, blank even. "I have a date."

"Right," Jon said, slapping his hands against his thighs and standing up. "Right, well, then - I guess I'll see you tomorrow at Tommy's. For dinner." When Lovett didn't confirm or deny it, Jon shook his head and lunged for his keys. "See you later," he mumbled on his way out the door. There was no response from behind him.

 

When Jon got to Tommy's house the next night, he thought he was early, but Lovett was already there. Pundit greeted Jon at the door - more like she greeted Leo so the two of them could tumble in together and, probably, gang up on Lucca. Jon bent down to unclasp Leo's leash before calling out in greeting. "I brought cheesecake for dessert," he said.

Tommy took it from him. "Great. It'll go really well with the _nothing_ that Lovett remembered to bring."

Jon looked over to where Lovett sat cross-legged on the couch, shrugging with his entire body. "I was busy."

"How was your date?" Jon asked, going for casual and missing by way of accusatory. He ignored the look Tommy gave him from behind the tissue he was snuffling into.

Lovett held up a hand as his other tapped furiously at his phone. Then - "It was good. You know, one too many drinks, some sloppy making out, mediocre sex. About what I've come to expect these days." He flipped his phone onto the couch cushion beside him and stood up. "You brought cheesecake? You know, it'll never be as good as the real thing. The kind you can only get in New York. What kind of cheap imitation cheesecake are you expecting us to eat tonight?"

Jon heard Tommy huff then cough somewhere behind him, but he couldn't take his eyes off Lovett. 

Jon tightened his stance, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders back. "What the fuck, Lovett."

Lovett ignored him. "Probably would have been better if you'd just brought something more traditionally LA," he said, "you know, like gluten-free churros with a fat-free vanilla caramel sauce, or, worse, with fresh strawberry preserves."

"Lovett," Jon snapped, making them both jump.

Something clattered in the kitchen behind him, and a moment later he heard Tommy call out, "I'm fine, don't worry about me, I'm - just going to - clean this up." 

Jon kept his attention focused on Lovett. "Jon," he tried again. "What's up?" It was clear that Lovett wanted nothing more than to not have this conversation. Jon didn't really want to have it either, but here they were. "I didn't realize that my last-minute weekend to Palm Springs was - that I - what was wrong with it? You've taken last-minute trips. To New York, DC. Why -?"

"I don't fucking care that you went to Palm Springs, Jon," Lovett said, his tone exhausted.

"I don't understand."

"Who is this girl, Jon? You pick her up in a bar on a Tuesday and you're in Palm Springs with her on Thursday?"

Jon let out a puff of breath, shook his head. "I've seen you go on a date with a different guy every night for a week. How is that different?"

"It's not Palm Springs, Jon!" Lovett flapped his arms askew for a moment, then pushed his glasses up from where they had begun sliding down his nose. "I'm not committing to a long weekend with any of these one-time dates after knowing them for a hot second. You always do this. You meet someone, you like them, fine, all right, that's great and then the next day you're going to fucking Palm Springs with them and then - and then! - a week later I have to pick up the pieces when it all crashes and burns and you're whining on my couch and drinking all my beer when all I want to do is play Halo with Spencer and not nurse your too-hopeful-too-soon broken heart."

It was possible that Jon missed half of what Lovett was saying because he couldn't get past the tone of his voice, not a whine, and not even his usual rant tone either. No, this was something different. He still sounded exhausted, yes, but there was an edge to that exhaustion. Almost the sound of defeat, something that Jon rarely heard out of Lovett. Maybe even a smidge the sound of wanting.

Plus, there was the way he refused to look at Jon as he talked, busying himself instead with the TV remote and the couch cushion and then by shoving his hands deep inside his pockets as his words came to a stop. And while Lovett wasn't looking at Jon, Jon couldn't take his eyes off of Lovett. The way his mouth moved, the shrug of his shoulders, the flex of his arms as he pulled into himself, the way he rocked a little on the balls of his feet.

"I can't do it anymore, Jon. I _won't_." Lovett sounded desperate.

Jon's attention snapped back to Lovett, his heartbeat stuttering then pounding in his chest. "I -" He had no fucking idea what to say.

"So if you're going to go get your heart broken biweekly, I'd prefer it if you didn't come crawling onto my couch looking for cuddles and sympathy." Now that tone was flat, hollow. Not like Lovett at all.

Jon stared at him. Lovett sank back onto the couch and sought out his phone, conversation over. Jon turned around, met Tommy's eyes where he stood at the edge of the kitchen, wide-eyed. "I forgot the wine in the car," he said, his tongue too large and dry in his mouth. "At home. I mean - I've got to go." He hurried to the door and fumbled with the handle as he burst out into the warm night. 

Neither Tommy nor Lovett said anything to him as he left.

 

There was no wine in the car, or at his house, even. They didn't even drink wine with dinner, and Jon knew Tommy had enough beer for them all to enjoy. But what was in his car was silence, he thought, and there was no Lovett looking at him with such an unreadable expression that it made his chest hurt. Jon sat in the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel tightly in both hands. He didn't bother getting his keys out of his pocket.

This is what he did, he realized, everything that Lovett said was accurate. Ever since Tommy and Hanna's wedding, Jon had been seeking the same thing. Go to a bar, pick up someone, have sex, think about their future together, no matter how completely incompatible they were.

He thought about the text he'd gotten that morning from Gemma, the infamous Palm Springs date. _had a nice wkend w/you jon_ it read _call me if u'r up for another adventure. xoxo_ Overlooking the horrible texting abbreviations, Jon knew exactly what it meant, and it didn't even bother him. She wanted fun, a weekend of sex and drinking and skinny-dipping in the hotel pool; he wanted a partner, curling up on the couch together yelling at CNN, sharing a pizza at 2 a.m. in bed, walking their dogs together.

Really, he wanted what he had with Lovett when he was helping him through the aftermath of one of these too-hopeful-too-soon messes. 

"Fuck," Jon moaned, pressing his palms to his face. 

It's not that he'd never thought about it. (How could someone be around Lovett as much as he was and not think about it?) But he didn't want to chance fracturing their years-long friendship. Everything that could go wrong. Fucking up their friendship, the company, their entire lives if he made a wrong move at the wrong time.

He rubbed his eyes and then slapped his palms back on the steering wheel. "Right. Shit." Jon got out of the car quickly, the door slamming shut behind him as he took the front walk in a few quick strides, letting himself back inside Tommy's house. 

"Lovett," he said, feeling maybe as desperate as Lovett had sounded earlier. If he was wrong about this -

"I'm gonna - Hanna - on the phone," Tommy said, though his phone was definitely not ringing. He gave a quick, curious glance at Jon and a sharp nod of his chin to Lovett and then bolted from the room.

Lovett sighed. "What, Jon? I already said my piece. If you don't get it, that's on you." He didn't look up from his phone. He was sitting on the couch with one leg tucked up under himself and the other dangling an inch off the floor. It couldn't be comfortable. Lovett never looked comfortable anywhere.

Jon flopped onto the couch beside him, earning a huff of frustration and Lovett squirming away from him. He pressed his fingers into his thighs. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. 

That got about half of Lovett's attention. He lowered his phone, tipped his head to the side to acknowledge that he had heard Jon, but he didn't reply. He also didn't turn his whole focus on Jon. No, he knew he would have to work for it. 

"Do you know why I always end up on your couch? Why I'm always with you and not coming here to Tommy's?" Jon continued. Lovett jerked his elbow as if to ask him to answer it for himself. "Because - shit, because every time I do this and think hey maybe this time it'll stick, and then it doesn't, I remember that you're - I'm always looking for what we already have," he said, his fingers clenched against his jeans. "But I'm never going to find it with someone else. And that's not fair to you, to keep coming back to you to try and get what I'm looking for. Fuck - Lovett, you're the longest relationship - the most successful one - I've ever been in and we aren't even sleeping together yet."

Silence from beside him. Jon was too terrified to glance over at Lovett, so he kept his focus on the floor, where Pundit and Leo had passed out in a mess of golden curls under the coffee table. His chest felt like it was ready to burst, and Jon had to remind himself to breathe. 

"Jesus, Jon, that's a hell of a way to ask me if I want to fuck you."

His head snapped up and he looked at Lovett, too-hopeful all over again. It was his MO; he couldn't help it. "Do you? Will you? I mean -"

"Jon," Lovett said, his cheeks turning rosy, the flush creeping down the sides of his neck. "I refused to believe that was ever on the table. So if you're putting it out there on the table now, then yeah, Jon. I'd be really open to our relationship moving out of the drunk platonic cuddling on the couch stage and into the fucking stage."

The gasp of relief that came out of Jon was mixed with a bark of laughter, and he felt his whole body relax as he sagged sideways again Lovett. Easily, familiarly. His hand came down on Lovett's knee, just below his knee. "Yeah," he said, "okay. That's - we can do that."

"Good," Lovett said, "because I'm tired of swiping all over on Tinder or Grindr just to keep up with your picking up. Now I'm not even going to have to leave my house. This is an excellent plan. Truly excellent. I'm just upset I didn't think of it on my own."

"Lovett," Jon said, urgently, squeezing his knee. 

They looked at each other. "What?"

"Shut up." Jon couldn't spend another second watching Lovett talk, so he closed the space between them and put his mouth to much better use. 

Lovett, thankfully, met him halfway, his "yes, fuck" muffled against Jon's lips. 

The kiss was open, hot, wet, and urgent. It was both exactly how Jon expected it would be and nothing that he was prepared for. Like everything he knew about Lovett personally, that was how he kissed. His whole body pushed against Jon, a hand clenching his shoulder, his lips soft and wild against Jon's. And he matched the kiss with his own ease, fingers sliding up into the curls at the side of Lovett's head, thigh pressed against Lovett's, moving his mouth slowly, deliberately, fighting against the impulse to try and keep up with Lovett's urgency.

"It's too quiet in here, have you two killed each other yet? Oh -!"

Jon pulled back suddenly, sucking in a stilted breath, Lovett's face - his mouth - still very close to his own. He didn't even look at Tommy but could imagine the look on his face. 

"Sorry, I - right, I think Hanna's on the phone again." And he was gone again.

Lovett looked like he had some kind of comeback to Tommy's continued use of his wife on the phone as an excuse to disengage himself from Jon and Lovett, but Jon cut him off with another kiss. "Might as well take advantage of the fact that Hanna's got Tommy at her beck and call, hmn?" 

He didn't wait for a response before kissing Lovett again, twisting so that he could push him back against the couch cushions and get them more comfortable for the next few minutes until Tommy got bored pretending to talk to Hanna and came back in.


End file.
